


A Perfect Arrangement

by KouriArashi



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Bad Parent Maryse Lightwood, Developing Relationship, Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Meet-Cute, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 04:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9862793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KouriArashi/pseuds/KouriArashi
Summary: To keep the peace between the Shadowhunters and the Downworlders, a treaty designates an intermarriage between the two groups every seven years. Alec isn't exactly happy to be chosen, but then he finds out that his intended is nothing like what anyone expected.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everybody! I don't have a lot of notes this time, this is less plotty and intense than my usual stuff. Just fun tropey goodness. It's sort of a semi-royalty AU in that the Shadowhunters don't actively go around fighting demons anymore, they just rule the world in their spare time.
> 
> I did kind of mess around with the downworlder canon, in that they're no longer immortal and they can have children, because otherwise an intermarriage between a downworlder and a nephilim would be kind of weird and pointless. 
> 
> Additional warnings for: discussions of dubcon even though none occurs, some vague references to child abuse, rampant homophobia among the Shadowhunters, and a characterization of Maryse that is probably getting more OOC with every episode that airs. =D

Looking back on it, Alec is pretty sure that his first mistake is having ever thought for a moment that his betrothal wasn’t going to be a disaster. But there was that moment. That moment when he walked into the courtyard and laid eyes on Magnus Bane for the first time, and in that moment, everything was perfect. It seemed like there was nothing that could go wrong.

Which was probably _not_ why everything then _did_ go wrong, but it sure seemed like it in retrospect.

He’s not sure of exactly where things went off the rails, but he suspects that it was long before he was even born. Centuries of history and conflict were colliding to make him, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, completely miserable.

The tradition of warlock/nephilim intermarriage went back almost two hundred years. It was part of the original treaty between the two warring species. They had banded together to fight the Incursion, but things had been tense after that. The alliance was shaky, suspicious. Without a common enemy, it looked like they would fall back into the habit of fighting each other.

The elders of both species had wanted to avoid that, and had hammered out a treaty. Mostly it consisted of noninterference. But to keep the two species forever intertwined, every seven years there was a marriage between the warlocks and the nephilim. There was an oracle among the warlocks who chose the betrothed couple.

Among the nephilim, being chosen was seen as an honor, as doing one’s part in preserving the peace. Or at least, that was how most people saw it. There were always rumblings of discontent. Nephilim were superior to warlocks. They shouldn’t allow the bloodlines to intermingle. In fact, although the nephilim chosen was honored, however many children he or she had with the warlock were often shunned in terms of marriage. Nobody wanted to contribute to further diluting the nephilim bloodlines.

Alec wasn’t sure how the warlocks saw it. He wouldn’t be able to blame them if they considered it an insult, too, if only because of how the nephilim treated them on a daily basis.

Noninterference was all well and good, and the two groups stayed largely separate. Nephilim saw themselves as superior to humankind as well as warlocks. Their attitude towards humans was something they clearly thought of as benevolent, although at times Alec wasn’t sure if the humans would agree. They were lower creatures, less intelligent, requiring guidance and control. Nephilim rarely took positions of power among the human hierarchy, but wherever there was a human in power, there was a nephilim behind them, quietly pushing things along to however they thought it should be.

Warlocks, on the other hand, enjoyed the company of humans. They lived among them, and frequently intermarried, although the two species couldn’t reproduce together. A lot of warlocks found the nephilim attitude condescending and insufferable, and if they ran across a nephilim they thought was getting too controlling, would try to knock them off their pedestal. This annoyed the nephilim beyond bearing, and war nearly broke out two more times before the treaty was amended to forbid warlocks from doing so.

Warlocks lived in mundane cities and took mundane jobs, using their magic to cheat at them, while the nephilim stayed in their walled off conclaves and largely kept to themselves.

Alec being chosen was unusual, because the nephilim chosen by the warlocks were typically the underclass, the ‘working nephilim’ as his mother sometimes put it with a sniff. Nephilim might be superior to humans, but they still needed people to make their clothes and fix their appliances and build their houses. They couldn’t let humans do that - surely they wouldn’t be talented enough to do it properly - so there were nephilim who did. And then there were the nobility, of which the Lightwoods were a part. They ruled over a small city in Idris, and Alec was expected to rule over it once they were gone. He spent his days learning about business and politics and law, and all of it was mind-numbingly dull. He had zero interest in it and zero choice about it.

He vividly remembered the day, seven years ago, when the warlocks came to their estate to let them know that he had been chosen. His feelings on the matter were conflicted. On the one hand, he had absolutely no interest in getting married at all, let alone to a stranger. On the other, he knew that he would end up married anyway, due to his position, and a stranger was probably better than whoever his mother would have chosen. And on the upside, it got him out of months or years of formal courtship that would involve finding a wife among the nephilim. It gave him seven guaranteed years of not having to put up with any of that.

His mother was frankly horrified, but hid it well. She went on and on about what an honor it was to be chosen and how Alec was doing his part to honor the treaty and keep all the nephilim safe from the warlocks. Alec wasn’t sure if anybody bought it, but didn’t ask a lot of questions.

“What was the name again?” Robert asked after the warlocks had departed. “Agnes, I think they said?”

“Agnes Bane,” Maryse said.

It was kind of an odd name, although all the warlocks had odd names in Alec’s opinion. He wondered what his bride-to-be was like. They never got more information than the name, and meetings between the promised couple before the handfasting were expressly forbidden. The warlocks were a superstitious bunch, according to his mother, and thought it would curse the union. It was said that the oracle could predict a compatible couple, and that in fact the warlock society only agreed to it because of this.

Alec thought that was kind of odd, but the year after he was chosen, he actually met a couple who had been promised and married almost forty years previous. They were still married, had four children, and were quite happy with each other. The nephilim even took Alec aside to say that he had never dreamed he could be so happy. “Trust the oracle, son,” he said. “You won’t regret it.”

That’s all well and good, but Alec still doesn’t see how he’s ever going to be happy about marrying someone, no matter how perfect a match the oracle thinks they are. He’s still thinking that as his mother straightens his tie, before he steps into the courtyard and sees Magnus Bane.

It’s probably shallow, to say the least, that Alec’s first thought is that Magnus is the most gorgeous man he had ever seen. He’s wearing a black suit with a red jacket, and Alec can see traces of red in his hair and glitter around his eyes. He is, literally, breathtaking. Alec just stands there, soaking the sight in. His second thought is far more practical - Magnus is a man, not a woman - which then leads to the inevitable conclusion that the oracle really _is_ right about everything and able to predict a perfect match. There are a few people who know about his sexual orientation – certainly his mother has been trying to beat it out of him since he had hit puberty – but there was no way the Oracle could have known. Outside his family, he had had never said a word about his preferences to anybody except for one regrettable incident when he was twelve. He was sure nobody had found out about that, because otherwise his mother would have murdered him. There’s no way the Oracle could have known, and yet he had. Suddenly, the future looks incredibly bright, and he sees light at the end of the tunnel.

The warlock in charge of the proceedings is a woman named Catarina Loss, and as Alec approaches Magnus, she introduces them in a formal tone. “Alexander Lightwood, this is Magnus Bane. Magnus Bane, Alexander Lightwood.”

“H-Hi,” Alec stammers, which is probably the silliest possible thing one could say when meeting their gorgeous fiancée. It doesn’t seem to bother Magnus, though; a warm smile blooms on his face, which only makes him twice as beautiful.

“Hello, Alexander,” he responds, and Alec nearly melts there on the spot.

The moment comes to a screeching halt bare seconds later, when Maryse interrupts. “I’m sorry, there must be some mistake.”

Magnus, Catarina, and every other warlock present blink at her. Alec wonders whether or not he can dig a hole, crawl into it, and vanish.

“I beg your pardon?” Catarina says.

“My son is here to be betrothed,” Maryse says, her voice tight with controlled rage. “He cannot be betrothed to . . . this person.”

The warlocks are too confused to be insulted. “And why is that?” Catarina asks.

Maryse frowns in what seems to be confusion, since the warlocks can’t seem to see the obvious problem. “This is a man.”

“Yes . . .” Catarina says.

Alec clears his throat and forces the words out of his throat before his mother can attempt to clarify and make things worse. “Nephilim society believes that relationships between two people of the same sex are . . .” He struggles to find a word that will get the point across without possibly insulting an entire species. Certainly none of the words his mother had used over the years will work. “Unnatural. Um. Inappropriate.” He practically chokes on the word, and he’s still not even sure that they understand, because a lot of them still look confused. Magnus, at least, seems to get it. He’s taken a small step backwards, his face suddenly frozen into a neutral mask.

“Why?” Catarina asks.

Maryse stares at her. Robert is frowning, and he says, “A man and a woman come together to make something complete. Two men or two women can never do that.”

“Nephilim have very strict gender roles,” Alec manages to say between numb lips.

Catarina recovers from her confusion. “You’re welcome to have whatever traditions in your own society that you like, but in this case, the oracle has chosen. Alexander Lightwood and Magnus Bane are the most compatible pair of their generation. The societal preferences of the nephilim are irrelevant.”

“I beg your pardon!” Maryse sounds aghast. “This is not something that can be hand-waved away as an ‘irrelevant preference’. You’re suggesting that my son be joined in union with another man - the very idea is obscene!”

Alec flushes bright red and considers sinking into the ground. “Mother, it’s not - ”

“Be quiet, Alec,” Maryse snaps.

Catarina is talking at the same time. “If you don’t honor the treaty, there could be serious consequences - ”

“If you force our son to take part in an obscenity because of the treaty, the consequences will be just as serious, believe me!”

“Mother,” Alec mumbles, but he can’t bring himself to speak up.

“There is no _logical_ reason why two men can’t form a perfect union - your backwards traditions might speak otherwise, but - ”

“Our traditions are to keep our society moral and virtuous!” Maryse shoots back. “The very fact that you can’t see that explains why warlock society is so degenerate!”

With that, it devolves into a full-on shouting match. There are about half a dozen members of both societies present, and it looks like things might actually turn to bloodshed. Alec’s protests go completely unheard. In desperation, he turns to Magnus. He sees the warlock studying him with a pensive expression.

Alec swallows hard and extends his hand. Magnus looks at it, and a slight smile crosses his face. He nods and reaches out to take it. His skin is soft, and warm, and - Alec banishes the thoughts to the back of his mind. He looks at the warlock priest who has been standing there, waiting to do his part, and gives a little ‘come on’ gesture. The priest looks confused for a minute, then sees what Alec is getting at. He takes the ribbon and ties it around Magnus and Alec’s hands where they’re joined. Alec takes a deep breath and speaks up loudly, enough to be heard over the shouting, although he keeps his voice calm and even. “On this, the seventh moon of the seventh year - ”

“Alexander Gid - ” Maryse starts.

“I pledge myself to thee.”

“ –eon Lightwood!”

“And I to thee,” Magnus responds, before anyone can further protest.

Maryse grabs Alec by the free arm and yanks him halfway around. “What have you done!”

Looking around at the warlocks, Alec says, “I’m pretty sure I just prevented a war.”

“You - you are our heir, you _cannot_ marry a man, you won’t be able to have children - ”

“I can abdicate,” Alec says, trying to keep his voice calm. “I’m happy to let Max have what I can’t.”

“Do you - do you have any idea what people are going to say about you, about our family - ”

“Hopefully they’ll still be saying that being chosen is a sacred honor and I’m doing my duty preserving the peace.”

“You - you are not bringing - I will not allow a relationship like this under my roof!”

Alec swallows convulsively and involuntarily looks to Magnus. The warlock smiles, his hand momentarily squeezing Alec’s, and he says, “Well, that’s no problem. I have plenty of roof to spare. I’ll see you at the wedding, I suppose. Until then, I think this would be an excellent time to make our exit.”

“Alec, don’t you dare,” Maryse says, as Magnus waves a hand and opens a portal.

“It’s already done,” Alec says, and lets Magnus lead him through.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

After all the shouting, the Brooklyn loft seems very quiet. Magnus takes a moment to compose himself as he closes the portal behind him. Alec is looking around, shy and anxious now that they’re alone. Magnus can’t even imagine what’s going through his head. He’s not sure of exactly why Alec did what he did, though he can think of a lot of possibilities, some more obvious than others.

Either way, Alec looks so tense that he’s about to snap, so Magnus says, “How about a drink?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. A drink would, uh, would be good.”

His stammering is adorable, but Magnus thinks he probably shouldn’t mention that. He gives the handfasting ribbon a quick tug, undoing it, and then tucks it away into his pocket. Alec’s eyes follow it, and Magnus smiles at him again. He heads into the kitchen and quickly mixes two drinks, using his magic to give them a little sparkle. Alec sees that and smiles a little. He looks uncertain but not unfriendly. Magnus lifts his glass and says, “I suppose saying ‘to us’ would be a little self-serving, wouldn’t it?”

A smile tugs at Alec’s lips. “How about ‘to peace’?”

“To peace,” Magnus agrees, clinking his glass against Alec’s. Alec takes a sip and then makes the world’s most adorable liquor face, his eyes squinching as he fights not to grimace.

“So, uh . . .” Alec looks around. “This is going to sound stupid, but where are we?”

“New York City. Brooklyn, to be precise.” Magnus waves a hand at their surroundings and says, “My loft. To be even more precise.”

“It’s nice,” Alec says.

“I admit that I was loath to leave it. I couldn’t quite bring myself to put it up for sale, which in the end I suppose was a good thing.”

“Yeah.” Alec takes another sip of his drink and looks downcast.

Magnus discards the first two things to say that come to his mind, and settles for, “Are you all right?”

“I’m not sure,” Alec says. “I, uh . . . I don’t know what happens now.”

“I think we’re moving through uncharted territory,” Magnus says, “so that isn’t really on you. Most of the time the handfasting is followed by a celebration between both families, but that clearly isn’t something that’s going to happen today. So I suppose we’ll have to celebrate just between the two of us . . . presuming you feel like celebrating at all.”

“I really don’t,” Alec says, then flushes pink. “Which isn’t because of you, I mean, it’s just, I wish I could but I can’t - ”

Magnus holds up a hand and lets his finger hover over Alec’s mouth. “I understand,” he says, and truly, he does. He’s still not sure of Alec’s motivations, but regardless of how Alec feels about Magnus and their betrothal, he just got disowned by his family. That’s not something that would be easy for anyone to deal with.

Alec smiles, which surprises Magnus, and he’s struck again by how handsome Alec is. He smiles back and says, “For now, maybe we should just get to know each other a little better. This is, after all, the first day of the rest of our lives.”

“Yeah, uh, okay,” Alec says. “So, uh . . . have you lived in New York your whole life?”

“No, I was actually born in Indonesia,” Magnus says. “I didn’t move to New York until after my mother died, when I was ten. I have some relatives here who took me in. What about you, you’re from Idris, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I, uh, I never really left it. It’s not really. Encouraged.”

Magnus opens his mouth to say something about nephilim society, then thinks better of it. “Well, I don’t know that the Big Apple is really the best place to start introducing you to the rest of the world, but I can think of worse places. There’s a lot here to see, at least.” He settles himself comfortably in his favorite chair. Alec gingerly perches on the edge of the sofa. “Let’s see. We must have some things in common. What’s your . . . favorite season?”’

Alec looks a little startled to be asked such a mundane, boring question, but then he smiles again. “Uh, winter. I love the snow. How quiet it gets. You?”

“Autumn. It’s beautiful, especially in New England.” Magnus looks at Alec, waits, then says, “Now you ask a question.”

“Oh, right.” Alec rubs a hand over the back of his head, looking embarrassed. “Um, what do you do for a living?”

“Magic, of course,” Magnus says. “I’m quite skilled at it, and believe me, in New York City you can find plenty of believers. It’s mostly small things - finding spells when someone lost their wedding ring, luck or health charms, et cetera. Sometimes it gets exciting, though; last summer I had clients who had a cursed mirror and couldn’t figure out why everything in their lives kept going wrong. I assume you were in line to take your father’s position but to be honest I have no idea what that entails.”

“It’s like . . . more like being a politician than anything else. Settling disputes, giving orders, making sure everything in the city runs smoothly.”

Seeing the look on his face, Magnus says innocently, “Not your idea of a good time?”

Alec shrugs. “It’s not . . . what I would have chosen, I guess.”

“What would you have chosen?”

“I have no idea, really. I guess I should start thinking about it, since I had to abdicate my position.”

“Well, you don’t have to decide right away. Magic pays well, so I have more than enough money to support both of us . . . although from your expression I feel like I just put my foot in my mouth.”

“No, it’s just . . .” Alec shifts uncomfortably. “What I was saying about the strict gender roles, that’s part of it. That the man supplies money to the household, and uh, the woman doesn’t work. Takes care of the house and kids and everything. If a man can’t support his family, he’s looked down on.”

Magnus decides against commenting on his opinion of that. “I’m not saying I’ll keep you for the rest of your life. Just that you have time to explore your options, find out what you’re good at, what you enjoy doing.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Alec brightens a little. “At least I’m in a city with a lot of options.”

“Very true. You could find absolutely anything here.” Magnus smiles and changes the subject.

Over the course of the next several hours – and the next several cocktails – they come to the conclusion that they have absolutely nothing in common. It gets to the point where they’re both laughing over it. Magnus likes cats and Alec likes dogs. Alec likes beer and Magnus likes wine. Alec has two siblings and Magnus has none. Milk chocolate versus dark chocolate. Toilet paper over the roll or under it. With each new topic one of them proposes, they end up chuckling over their different answers.

“Okay, no, I got it, I got it,” Alec says, snickering into his fifth drink. “Um. Pineapple on pizza.”

“Yes!” Magnus says. “It’s delicious.”

“No!” Alec protests, and they both start laughing. “It’s disgusting. You’re wrong, just, just sit there and be wrong.”

Magnus giggles into his drink. “Boxers or briefs?”

“Boxers.”

“Why?” Magnus asks, and they’re both off into gales of laughter again. He has a sneaking suspicion that they’re both a lot more drunk than they intended to get. He’s pretty sure that asking Alec what kind of underwear he prefers should have waited until their second date.

This is proven correct when Alec says, “So wait, you wear briefs, then?” suddenly flushing pink like he’s picturing what Magnus is wearing underneath his pants. They’re both wearing a lot less than they had been at their arrival at the loft. It’s not exactly warm, but the alcohol makes it feel that way. They’ve cast off their suit jackets. Magnus’ feet are bare and Alec’s shirt is unbuttoned to reveal the white T-shirt underneath.

“When I wear any underwear at all,” Magnus responds with a wink, and Alec goes from pink to red. “Oh, Lord, I’m sorry. I think I’ve had a bit too much.”

“No, it, uh, it’s fine,” Alec mumbles. “So, um.” He clears his throat and sets his empty glass down. “Warlocks don’t . . . don’t think there’s anything wrong with being attracted to, uh, to someone of the same sex, I guess.”

“I find the notion baffling, to be honest,” Magnus says. He figures honesty is probably the best policy. “I’m going to get us some water, hang on.” He goes into the kitchen and pours them each a glass. It won’t get them sober any time soon, but it might take the edge off the hangover. He hands Alec the glass and sits down on the sofa next to him. “Personally, I’m attracted to both genders, and I’ve never really questioned it. It’s like . . . I don’t _choose_ to be attracted to someone. Either I am, or I’m not. I see people of both genders every day that I find attractive, and those I don’t. Since it isn’t something the body has conscious control over, how could it be wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Alec admits. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Apparently nobody in your society ever has. I’ve run across some discrimination in my dealings with humans, which apparently a lot of my brethren have not. But to me, it seems like . . . declaring someone deviant because they’re left-handed, or have green eyes. Is it common, or even typical? No. But being different doesn’t make something wrong.” He flicks a look at Alec. “I understand that you were just trying to do your duty to your people, but I – ”

Alec kisses him. It’s fumbling and sloppy and tastes like whiskey, and Magnus is all in without pause to think. Alec has him by the front of the shirt and tows him closer, and kisses him for what feels like hours. When he pulls away, Magnus chases his mouth involuntarily, and they kiss again, with just as much fervor.

After a small eternity, Alec pulls away and tries to catch his breath. His face is flushed and his pupils are dilated and he’s _gorgeous_. “I’ve – definitely had too much to drink,” he says, and starts to snicker.

Magnus starts laughing, too. He can’t help it. “That seemed like it had been waiting a long time.”

“Yeah. I guess it had.” Alec rubs a hand over the back of his hair. “All my life, I’ve thought . . . there was just something irrevocably wrong with me. I didn’t know what to do about it, other than just fake being normal. When they told me I had been chosen to marry a warlock, I didn’t know what to do . . . but then it turned out to be you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Alec,” Magnus says quietly, rubbing his thumb over Alec’s cheek, and Alec just falls into another kiss. It goes on for several minutes before Magnus, with effort, pulls away. “I think we’re both a bit too drunk to be going any further than that tonight,” he says.

“Oh, uh, yeah. You’re probably right, I just – ” Alec clears his throat and looks vaguely embarrassed. “Got carried away, maybe.”

“Which makes perfect sense to me, honestly,” Magnus says. He glances at his watch and sees that it’s after ten. “Are you hungry? We should get some pizza. You haven’t lived until you’ve had pizza from New York City. I promise I won’t order pineapple on it.”

“Isn’t it a bit late?” Alec asks.

“Not around here. Most shops deliver until eleven or midnight.”

“Okay, then.”

Once they have the food, Magnus proposes watching a movie. Alec had mentioned earlier that the nephilim aren’t big on “mundane culture” and he’s only seen a few movies over the course of his life. They read a lot of books, but his family didn’t even own a television. While Magnus agrees that there’s nothing wrong with reading, he also thinks there’s nothing wrong with television. “And you haven’t lived until you’ve watched Alfred Hitchcock,” he says.

“First I haven’t lived until I had pizza from New York, now I need to watch movies, too?” Alec is grinning despite himself. “I’ve been a zombie all along and didn’t even know it.”

“If you’re expecting me to argue, that’s not going to happen,” Magnus says, and puts on Vertigo.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Alec wakes up the next morning with a start. He groans a little as his temples throb, and looks around. He has a vague memory of Magnus the night before, saying, “You probably don’t want to sleep in my bed,” and then helping him into what he assumes is the spare bedroom. There’s a nightstand which has a glass of water, two white tablets, and a note. Alec picks it up and reads, ‘Drink the whole glass of water and take the Tylenol, then lie in bed for fifteen minutes before trying to get up.’ He’s never had a hangover before, so he decides to trust Magnus’ judgment.

When he gets up fifteen minutes later, he does feel better, although not by a lot. It’s about half past nine, and he’s surprised he slept so long, but they hadn’t gone to bed until long after midnight. He’s slept in his clothes, and he doesn’t have any to change into, so he settles for washing his face before he goes looking for Magnus.

He’s in the kitchen, making coffee, and greets Alec with a smile. “Good morning. How’s your head?”

“Sore, but I’ll live,” Alec says. He might be wearing the same clothes, but Magnus is not. He’s wearing a maroon shirt with gold dragons on it, and soft black pants. Alec’s hands itch to get a feel for the fabric, but he manages to keep them to himself. He feels – he’s not sure. Part of him his happy, damn near giddy, to have found people who will accept him for who he is. But there’s still a part of him that nags at him, saying he shouldn’t be acting the way he is, shouldn’t be happy about fitting in with these deviants. “I, uh . . . I don’t have any stuff with me. I just realized that.”

Magnus nods a little. “I had packed up some of my things to bring to Idris, but of course you had no way of knowing you’d be going anywhere. Don’t worry. I can take you out shopping! Give you the real New York experience.”

“I’m not sure whether or not that’s a good thing,” Alec says, giving Magnus the side-eye.

Magnus looks amused, but says in a neutral tone, “You could call your parents and see if you could get some of your own things.”

“I could do that,” Alec agrees. He takes out his phone and stares at it for a long moment before tucking it away. “Shopping it is.”

“Let’s start with breakfast,” Magnus says, and Alec laughs and agrees.

It’s fair to say that New York City is an experience. It’s crowded and noisy and smells weird and Alec just can’t stop staring. He’s never seen anywhere as packed with people. The city where he grew up barely has ten thousand people in it, and probably takes up almost as much space as Manhattan. Magnus steers him around, showing him parks and landmarks and explaining what everything is. Alec can barely take it all in.

Fortunately for him, although Magnus insists on high-end clothing, he doesn’t try to impress his fashion sense upon Alec. He _does_ offer advice, mainly about what he thinks looks good on him, but he doesn’t really interfere. He takes Alec to Shake Shack for lunch and then takes Alec to Housing Works and loses him completely among the stacks of books.

Alec is starting to feel pretty good about things when his phone rings and he sees that it’s his mother. He answers it somewhat suspiciously. “Hello?”

“Alexander, where are you?” Maryse snaps.

“New York,” Alec says. “Why?”

“Well, now that I’ve had a chance to discuss your situation in more detail with your father, I’d like to see where you’re living and make sure it’s suitable.”

“It’s fine,” Alec says. “It’s an apartment in Brooklyn.”

“An apartment!” Maryse sounds scandalized. “I’ll be the judge of what is and isn’t fine. Give me the address – I’ll find a warlock who can get me to the general area.”

Alec sighs. Magnus looks up from where he’s browsing with a raised eyebrow. Alec puts his hand over the phone and says, “It’s my mom. She wants your address.”

Magnus leans over so he can speak into the phone without taking it from Alec’s hands, so he won’t have to relay it. Once Alec has hung up, he says, “I guess we’d better get back, then?”

“I guess so.” Alec feels grumpy. He’s actually enjoying himself, for one of the first times in his life. Naturally his mother is going to put in an appearance and make him feel miserable. But he follows Magnus back to the apartment, glad that it’s large and fancy and will hopefully put his mother into an amenable mood.

She shows up by herself, so that’s something; he won’t be ganged up on. The look she gives the apartment is skeptical, but not outright derisive. Magnus offers her a drink, and she looks at him like he’s some sort of ant but accepts it.

“So. Alec.” She sits down on the sofa. Alec sits across from her, pinned down by her stare. “I’ve been talking to the Clave.”

“Uh huh,” Alec says.

“And they agree with me that the situation is absolutely unacceptable.”

Alec rubs his temples with his fingers and tries to swallow down the wave of anxiety at the tone of disapproval in her voice. Magnus sits down in the room’s third chair, trying to project himself as a neutral party. “Mother. I understand that you’re upset. That you had, had goals for me that I can’t meet now. But it’s done. We’ve been handfasted, the wedding – ”

“The wedding is in three weeks,” Maryse says, “which is ample time to find a way to prevent it.” She sips her drink and then gives a grimace. “Alec, honey, I’m proud of you for doing what you felt you needed to do in order to preserve the peace. Your sacrifice was a thing of honor. But it wasn’t necessary. We’re going to find a way to get you out of this.”

Alec can’t bring himself to look at Magnus. He knows what Magnus is thinking – how Magnus is wondering why he doesn’t just tell his mother that he _wants_ this. He knows he should. But he can’t. He can already imagine the way she’ll look at him. The disgust, the revulsion. And that’s nothing compared to what she’ll _say_. He can’t tell her. “We shouldn’t start trouble with the warlocks.”

“We’ll straighten it out. I’m sure their oracle can find the _second_ most compatible couple and we can go ahead with everything as planned,” Maryse says, with a roll of her eyes.

Magnus clears his throat. “Actually, no. The timing wouldn’t be right.”

Maryse gives him a look. “Meaning?”

“The handfasting is done on the seventh moon of the seventh year. The wedding is done three weeks later. Three times seven. The numbers have meaning. The handfasting can’t be done any other day, nor can the wedding, if it’s going to be a blessed union.”

“Superstitious nonsense,” Maryse says, scoffing.

“Be that as it may,” Magnus says, in an admirably even tone, “numerology is very important to warlocks, so I doubt the Council will agree that the oracle should just find a different couple to wed.”

“Then I suppose we’ll just have to skip a year, won’t we,” Maryse says.

Magnus pinches the bridge of his nose. “If I understand correctly, a large part of the problem is that I cannot provide Alec with children. I assume this is part of the reason why a same-sex couple is not viewed as a ‘complete’ union.”

“That is part of the problem, yes.”

“So by that logic, the elderly would not be allowed to wed,” Magnus says. “If two people past their childbearing years were to meet and fall in love, that would be considered an incomplete union.”

Maryse bristles. “The inability to bear children is only _part_ of the problem, as I just stated. The simple fact of the matter is that men and women are different. They relate to each other differently and they fill different roles. Any relationship between two men or two women is inherently deficient because vital parts will be missing.”

“I see.”

“Now if you’re quite done insisting I explain myself to you, which was absolutely unnecessary, my point was that the Council will simply have to find a way to agree that this marriage is not going to happen. Regardless of how you feel about it.” Maryse glares at him and sets down her glass. “Now, I’d like to speak to my son in private, if you don’t mind.”

“By all means,” Magnus says, and goes out onto the balcony.

Maryse waits until the door is shut behind him, before turning back to Alec. “Listen to me, Alec. I know what you’re thinking. That you’ve found a place where your, your aberrant behavior will be acceptable. It is _not_ acceptable, and I do not care what the warlocks think about it. Do not think for an instant that I’m going to allow this relationship to continue. You are not going to bring shame on this family. Do you understand me?”

“Okay, Mother,” Alec manages, hoping that his face isn’t as red as he feels like it is.

“The only reason I am allowing you to stay here, at this apartment, is because the Clave currently believes you were only doing what you thought was right for the treaty. It’s in our best interest if they continue to think that you made an honorable sacrifice, so I will not remove you from New York. But while you are here, you had best keep in mind that when all this is over, you are still our heir and I will still need to find someone who is actually suitable for you.”

“Okay, Mother,” Alec mumbles.

She pins him down with her stare. “You _will not_ allow that deviant to touch you.”

“Yes, Mother,” Alec squeezes out of his rapidly closing throat.

Maryse gives another grimace. “I understand that he’s going to try to convince you – that he’s going to pressure you for all manner of unspeakable things, most likely. He’ll say that you’re going to end up married anyway, so in that context it’s acceptable, but believe me, Alec, it is _not_ acceptable, so if you ever want to set foot in Idris again – if I find out you allowed him to talk you into – ”

“I won’t,” Alec snaps, losing his temper. He’s glad that Magnus can’t hear her insulting him this way – and that Magnus can’t hear Alec _not_ defending him, even after Magnus had called a halt to things the night before, when Alec was too drunk to see straight.

“Good.” Maryse stands up. “I’ll be in touch,” she says, and sweeps out of the apartment.

Alec rubs both hands over his face and thinks about throwing things. The only thing he has to throw is his glass, and while he thinks it would feel good to do so, he doesn’t. He looks up as Magnus comes back inside, closing the glass doors behind him.

“May I ask you something?” Magnus says.

Alec can barely speak. “I’m sorry, okay? I can’t – it’s not so easy for me to – ”

“Do you like cats?” Magnus interrupts, and Alec blinks at him. “I know we talked about it last night but I confess I don’t remember your answer. We talked about so many different things. Plus, you know, the five cocktails didn’t help improve my memory.”

“I, uh.” Alec can only manage to stammer for a few moments. “I don’t mind cats. I mean, I’ve never had any, but I can’t really imagine objecting to one.”

“Excellent.” Magnus takes his phone out. “Because I have a most magnificent cat by the name of Chairman Meow, who I had given to my friend Ragnor to look after until I had made sure it was all right with you to bring him to our theoretical new home in Idris. So if it’s all right with you, I’d like to have Ragnor drop him off.”

“Oh. Sure, yeah. That’s fine.”

Magnus taps at his phone for a few minutes. “I was thinking about getting Chinese food for dinner. I’m not much of a cook, to be honest.”

“Me neither.” Alec sighs and leans back in his chair. “Nephilim men don’t learn, because it’s the women’s job to cook.”

“Mm hm.” Magnus doesn’t pass judgment.

“Maybe I’ll learn,” Alec says, staring at the ceiling.

A slight smile crosses onto Magnus’ face. “I certainly wouldn’t mind having home-cooked food, but don’t feel obligated. I’ve lived off sandwiches and take-out this long, I’m sure I can continue to manage.” He tucks his phone away. “Ragnor says he’ll be by in about an hour. Dinner?”

“Sure.” Alec can’t bring himself to look at Magnus. “What should I do?”

Magnus glances over from the takeout menus he’s sorting. After a moment, he says, “I wouldn’t worry too much, Alec. The Council isn’t going to let the Clave out of this. We know that there’s nothing wrong with being attracted to the same sex, and we know that you are, or else the oracle wouldn’t have matched us. So the Clave has no grounds to demand the Council call off the wedding.”

“If they tell my parents that they ‘know’ I’m attracted to men, my mother is going to come here and force me to say I’m not.”

“Then don’t,” Magnus says.

“I wish it were that simple.”

“Oh, it is.” Magnus sits down next to him. “It’s not that _easy_ , but it is that simple. And I’m sorry to say this, Alec – honestly, I am – but no matter how this ends, things aren’t going to go back to the way they used to be. Something’s going to have to give. The only question is what that will be.”

Alec continues to look at the ceiling. It _should_ be easy. Here’s an entire group of people who have accepted him. A gorgeous man who wants to be his husband. People who don’t think that there’s something wrong with him. The idea of it doesn’t even compare to what he had in Idris – the idea of marrying a woman, spending the rest of his life doing things he has absolutely no interest in. It shouldn’t be hard to choose, and he doesn’t understand why it is.

“Alec,” Magnus finally says, “no matter what happens, I still believe you’re my perfect match.”

“Thanks,” Alec says.

Magnus smiles at him. “Now, let’s get dinner. We have a lot more movies to go through before I’ll consider you even remotely cultured.”

Alec falls asleep that night after marathoning the original Star Wars trilogy, full of Chinese food and with Chairman Meow on his chest, a purr rumbling away.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

For the next few days, Alec manages to put the impending doom out of his mind. Magnus is probably correct. Alec’s parents and the Clave can flail and complain all they want, but the Warlock Council is unlikely to back down. They’re certainly not going to revise their opinion on same-sex relationships, so they’ll see no need to let the Clave dictate how they should feel about it.

It helps that the Council has the upper hand going into this fight. Alec knows that the Clave would never admit it, but their isolationism hasn’t helped them in the grand scheme of things. Although their numbers had been relatively even at the time of the original treaty, by now warlocks outnumber them almost two to one. Nephilim are higher up in human hierarchy, but warlocks understand humans better, and are willing to use and adapt to technology as much as they use magic.

Maryse can scream all she wants, but the Clave isn’t going to want to pick a fight with the Council over one wedding – not when Alec himself is clearly willing to participate.

So he tries not to think about it. Magnus is showing him around the city, talking about different things he might want to do with his life. He’s fascinated by the options, things he never would have considered being real careers. People who work with art or books, people who work with animals, people who make candy or pastries. The list goes on and on.

Magnus talks a lot about his job, which Alec thinks sounds interesting. He particularly likes hearing about the cases that involved real detective work, like when he had tracked down the cursed mirror. Alec has always liked mystery novels, and he finds himself wondering how one breaks into that field. Certainly his nephilim blood would be of help to him in some regards.

He’s occasionally surprised by how awkward he doesn’t feel. He’s never been good at making small talk or meeting new people. He had expected things would be the same way with Magnus, but they’re not. He feels comfortable around Magnus almost immediately, and they talk about a huge variety of things, and sometimes they don’t talk at all. Silences that would have driven him insane between himself and people he’s known for years just feel normal between him and Magnus. By the time a week has gone by, he feels like Magnus has always been there, like he’s an integral part of his life that he hadn’t even realized was missing.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” he says hesitantly. “Is it magic?”

“I don’t think so, not precisely,” Magnus says. “Maybe something about the way our souls fit together. Magic is what brought us together, but it doesn’t make us feel any particular way.”

Alec smiles and nods, because he likes that idea, and he’s glad that Magnus agrees. Chairman Meow jumps up onto the table and demands affection, and Magnus laughs and scratches him behind the ears.

Alec’s learning to cook, too, partly just to spite his parents but also because the idea is kind of intriguing now that he thinks about it. Being able to cook means he can eat whatever he wants. Of course, his first attempt to cook ends with burned rice and a ruined pan and both of them laughing helplessly, but the second attempt went better. There are approximately eight hundred cooking shows on the internet, and Magnus sets up his laptop and then sits on the counter and offers advice even though he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

They don’t talk about the upcoming wedding, or the Clave’s opinion of it. Magnus seems perfectly content to let Alec ease into this at his own pace. Alec is still sleeping in the spare bedroom, and Magnus hasn’t said a word about it. In fact, he’s very respectful of Alec’s personal space, never initiating physical contact unless Alec invites it. That’s a small problem for Alec, because he feels very awkward and uncertain about doing so. He knows that Magnus would welcome it, but it’s still hard for him to do. They should probably talk about it, he thinks, but what the hell. They have the rest of their lives. They’ll figure things out. And things are so easy, so _good_ , between them, that he doesn’t want to rock the boat.

“Do you know how to dance?” Magnus asks out of the blue, on the ninth night.

“What? No,” Alec says, laughing. “Why?”

“Oh, it just struck me while I was watching you that you would make a magnificent dancer.” Magnus walks over to the stereo and starts fiddling with it. “Hm, what should I teach you? Salsa? Swing? Ballroom?”

“How about the ‘slow shuffle’?” Alec asks, and Magnus laughs.

“We’ll start with the waltz,” he says, and beckons for Alec to join him in the center of the room. The furniture obligingly moves itself to the walls to give them more space, and he shows Alec where to put his arms. “I love to dance. I’m going to teach you and then we’re going to make all my friends jealous.”

“Sure,” Alec says, stepping on Magnus’ feet almost immediately. They both laugh again. He doesn’t know what it is about Magnus that makes him so able and willing to laugh at his mistakes. Back at home, the slightest error resulted in a tongue-lashing and several days if not weeks of self-recrimination. But with Magnus it’s different. He can burn rice and step on Magnus’ toes and just laugh it off because it’s not important. This, staring into Magnus’ eyes while they do some vague approximation of the waltz, this is what’s important.

He doesn’t realize that they’ve basically stopped moving, that they really are just shuffling back and forth. Doesn’t realize that the music has changed. Doesn’t realize that he’s forgotten where his hands are supposed to go and the one that was holding Magnus’ has dropped down to rest on his waist. All of that is somewhere in the far background as he leans in and presses his mouth against Magnus’.

Like the way they had kissed the first night, it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. He feels like he’s drowning in reverse, like Magnus is breathing life into him and suddenly everything is in vivid color. Magnus draws him in like the tide. He’s helpless before it, and it’s the best feeling he’s ever had. They kiss over and over again, Magnus’ hand cupping the back of Alec’s neck, Alec’s hands on Magnus’ back, keeping him pulled close.

For several blissful moments, everything is perfect. Then Magnus’ fingers trail over his throat and down his chest in a way that sends all his blood rushing south. It’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced before, and he pulls away with a gasp. “I can’t,” he strangles out, and takes several steps backwards. Magnus looks startled, although not angry or upset. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Magnus says. “I’m the one who’s sorry, I shouldn’t have – ”

“No, it’s fine,” Alec says, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “I mean. I liked it. I just.” He swallows hard. “I guess that was the problem, really.”

Magnus regards him for a moment, then says, “Drink?”

“God, yes,” Alec says. Magnus heads into the kitchen, and comes back with two cocktails. Alec takes his and sips rather than gulps, because he knows by now that Magnus’ cocktails pack one hell of a punch. “I just don’t _get_ it,” Alec bursts out suddenly. “Everything you said made sense, about, about how you can’t choose who you’re attracted to. I’ve tried my whole life not to be attracted to men, but I always was and presumably always will be. There’s this whole group of people who don’t think there’s anything wrong with me. So why can’t I just . . .”

“I think for a lot of reasons,” Magnus says. “Despite the fact that what we say makes sense, you’ve been told the opposite for your entire life. I don’t think it’s possible to just flip a switch and suddenly be fine with something you’ve been told is wrong for twenty years. And even if you could – even if you know it’s not wrong, you’re still very aware that most of the people you’ve ever known would disagree.” He’s quiet for a moment, watching Alec pace around. “I would be surprised if it was easy.”

“Thanks.” Alec rakes a hand through his hair. “It’s like there’s a, a part of me that – that wants to, but there’s this other part of me that can’t handle it. I don’t know. It’s confusing and I hate it.”

“Try not to worry about it so much,” Magnus says. “You’ll get there.”

“I just, I feel bad. I mean, I know you want to, and I, it’s not fair of me to – ” Alec’s shoulders slump. “I’m a coward and I hate that.”

“You’re not a coward,” Magnus says firmly. “And you don’t have to be okay with anything before you’re okay with it. I’m fine waiting – honestly.” He reaches out and squeezes Alec’s shoulder. “You know, you worry too much.”

Alec laughs despite himself. “I guess so.”

Magnus gestures all the furniture back into place and sinks into a chair. “If you don’t mind my asking – when did you know?”

“When I was, I don’t know, eleven or twelve maybe?” Alec rubs a hand over the back of his head and sits down across from Magnus. “I remember, you know, the first time I got . . .” He blushes a little and just waves at his lower half to demonstrate the idea. “And being pretty confused. Because even at twelve, I knew that boys weren’t supposed to feel like that about other boys. I didn’t dare ask my parents, and we didn’t really have the internet the way you guys do, so I asked a teacher about it. You know, the way you pretend you’re asking something for a friend, so you won’t get in trouble. And I was told in no uncertain terms that good, decent boys did _not_ feel that way over other boys.” Alec frowns a little and adds, “Or girls, for that matter, if they weren’t actually courting them, but I guess that’s a separate issue.”

“Puritanical nonsense,” Magnus says, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess.” Alec clears his throat and says, “Anyway, I convinced myself that if I could kiss a boy, I would see that it was awful and I would hate it, and then I could stop being attracted to boys and go on with my life. I had a best friend back then, named Jace, and I talked him into letting me kiss him. Which, naturally, only made me _more_ attracted to boys, so I made him swear he would never tell anyone about it, ever.”

“And I assume he didn’t.”

“Yeah. Thank God.” Alec shakes his head. “Though my mom figured it out anyway. She would never let me have other boys sleep over, not after I turned thirteen. I guess she saw how I looked at them, and I’m sure the teacher told her what I had asked about. In fact, my mom basically forbade me from having any friends at all, and would keep me in my room whenever I wasn’t in lessons. It wasn’t until I was maybe, I don’t know, fifteen? That I realized no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t feel the same way about girls. And that’s the year I found out I was engaged to you, so . . . it didn’t seem to matter.”

“You know, I am curious about that,” Magnus says. “They gave me your name when they told me I had been chosen – didn’t you get mine, and realize my gender?”

“Well, we did, but – ” Alec shrugs. “I thought they said _Agnes_ Bane. Maybe I just heard what I expected to hear.”

“Confirmation bias,” Magnus agrees, looking amused despite himself. “I wasn’t sure how to feel about it, frankly. I always considered myself an individualist, first and foremost. The idea of not being able to choose my own spouse was . . . unsettling. I got used to it, but had quite a bit of teenaged angst about it.”

Alec smiles a little. “Honestly, I was glad. I knew I was going to end up married one way or another, and some randomly chosen warlock had like a ninety percent chance of being better than anyone my mother set me up with . . . with the added bonus that I got to skip all the ritual courtship stuff. My mother was furious she couldn’t pick my bride, but I think she was also kind of relieved she wouldn’t have to find someone to marry me and risk them finding out about my, uh, my ‘abnormality’.” He makes air quotes around the word and sees Magnus’ mouth thin. “But yeah, I was totally okay with it. Though it kind of wound up being a disaster for my sister,” he adds, feeling the familiar pang of guilt.

“You don’t talk about her much,” Magnus says, setting down his empty glass.

“I still feel bad about what happened.” Alec gulps down the rest of his cocktail. “See, Mom was all about finding me the perfect bride, to help our image, our reputation, our business . . . an alliance with some other rich, noble family. And when I suddenly became ineligible . . . that all got dumped on Izzy instead. My little brother Max was still a toddler then, but Izzy is only a couple years younger than I am. Mom was just fucking _relentless_ about it. Not just the courtship itself, but making sure Izzy was the perfect bride. She hounded her about her appearance, her grades, her _everything_.”

Magnus winces a little. “What happened?”

“Izzy fucked a faerie and knocked herself out of the running.”

Magnus laughs despite himself. “Oh . . . oh dear.”

Alec can’t help but smile a little. “Yeah. And believe me, Izzy was good at keeping secrets. She could have made sure nobody ever found out about her little fling. The only reason she got caught, uh – ”

“In flagrante?” Magnus suggests.

Alec laughs and agrees. “Yeah. The only reason she got caught is because she wanted to. It would have been bad enough that she wasn’t a virgin, but a faerie – pretty much nobody would even look at her after that. Mom was furious, of course, and they just – their fights got worse and worse until Izzy turned eighteen and left home the same day. I, uh, I haven’t seen her since then. We text a lot, but – she’s not allowed into Idris and I basically wasn’t allowed out of it. She said she was going to come to the wedding. I should probably text her to let her know about all the drama.”

“I imagine she’ll find it quite amusing.”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Alec goes quiet for a minute before he admits, “I never stood up for her when it counted. Honestly, I don’t know why she even still talks to me, let alone why she would want me to be happy.”

Magnus reaches out and squeezes his hand. “The way your mother treated Izzy wasn’t your fault. Just like the way your mother treated you wasn’t Izzy’s fault. She got away from that. I’m sure she’d be happy to know that you did, too.”

“I guess you’re right.” Alec perks up. “Maybe I’ll call her.”

“I’d love to meet her,” Magnus says. “It sounds like you have at least one family member you’d like at the wedding.”

“Yeah.” Alec hesitates, then takes out his phone and dials. Izzy picks up on the third ring and he says, “Hey, it’s me.”

“Alec!” Izzy’s voice is cheerful as ever. “I was going to say I expected to hear from you days ago, but nah, after meeting your perfect match, I guess you’ve been real busy, huh?”

“Oh my god, Izzy,” Alec says.

“Sooooo, how’s it going?” Izzy says. “I want to hear all about it. What’s she like?”

Alec steals a glance at Magnus. “Five ten, beautiful eyes, amazing lips,” he says, flushing pink as Magnus beams at him. “Oh, and it’s probably worth mentioning that his name is _Magnus_ Bane, not _Agnes_ Bane.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence, and then Izzy begins to cackle. “Oh my God! Mom’s head must have spun around like she was in The Exorcist!”

“Yeah, she’s . . . not happy,” Alec says, making a mental note that he’d have to ask Magnus if that was a movie, and if so, if they should watch it. “It’s been over a week and I’m pretty sure she’s still trying to get the Clave to find me a way out of it.”

Izzy instantly becomes serious again. “Do you _want_ a way out of it?”

“No,” Alec says.

“Awesome,” Izzy says, going back to laughing. “Where are you? I can’t imagine it’s Idris.”

“No, we’re at Magnus’ place, in New York City.”

“I’m buying a plane ticket as we speak,” Izzy says. “I’ll text you the flight info and see you tomorrow.”

Now Alec laughs too, and says, “Okay. That sounds good.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Izzy’s flight is due to get in the next day around nine PM – she’s coming from Argentina so it’s not a short trip – so Alec and Magnus decide to eat early so they’ll be hungry again by the time she gets there and can take her out. They’ve barely sat down before there’s a sharp knocking at their door. Both of them look up at the first series of knocks, which is repeated even more vigorously moments later. “I’ll,” Magnus started before Maryse shouted from outside, “Alec! It’s your mother!”

“I guess I will,” Alec says, getting up. Magnus looks somewhat pained, and refills both their wine glasses. Alec gives a quiet snort as he goes to the door. He’s pretending to be nonchalant, but his stomach is twisting from nerves. He knows why his mother is here, and he’s been steeling himself for the encounter for days.

“Mother,” he says, opening the door. “It’s nice to see you. Would you like some wine?”

“Get your things! We are leaving this instant!”

“Uh - ” Alec had expected questions, an interrogation. The abrupt command takes him off guard. “Mom, what’s going - ”

“This farce which I refuse to call an engagement has gone on long enough!” Maryse snaps. “You are not staying with this, this pervert for another minute!”

“Mother!” Alec says, losing his temper. “Look, you don’t like Magnus and you don’t like me being engaged to another man, I get it. But you don’t even know Magnus, so don’t you dare call him - ”

“I will call him what he is! He openly admits to being attracted to men! That makes him - ”

“My betrothed,” Alec says. “Now stop - just stop shouting and tell me what happened that got you so angry.”

Maryse clearly isn’t happy with Alec putting her off, but she squares her jaw and says, “I have spent the last week with the Clave, attempting to explain to that group of degenerates called the warlock council why this is unacceptable. They, of course, have refused to budge. And today, they had the audacity to say that you were clearly quite happy with the arrangement, and therefore the rest of us don’t have the right to an opinion on it!”

Alec winces. He steals a glance at Magnus and takes a deep breath. He knew this was coming. He’s thought about what he wants to say. It’s not easy to say it, but Magnus was right. Something has to give, and this is what that’s going to be. He won’t go back to the life he had before, to the misery he had always thought he would be sentenced to. “I am happy with the arrangement,” he says. “I want to marry Magnus. I’m _going_ to marry Magnus. And I don’t care what you think about it. So if you have a problem with that, I suggest that you deal with it.”

He sees the glint of appreciation in Magnus’ eyes, but keeps his attention focused on Maryse. Her jaw is slightly ajar, and then her mouth clenches in anger. But her response isn’t what Alec expected. Instead of shouting at him or calling him disgusting or any of the things he had prepared for, she whirls on Magnus and demands, “What have you done to him?”

Magnus stops with his glass of wine halfway to his mouth. “I beg your pardon?”

“My son would never - would _never_ want to marry the likes of you. Whatever enchantment you have put on him - ”

“Mother!” Alec says, appalled. “Magnus hasn’t done _anything_ to me. There’s no, no magic, no enchantment on me. You’ve known I was like this since I was thirteen, you’ve been punishing me for it for nearly a decade – ”

“Clearly not enough!” Maryse snaps. “My son would not be willing to participate in this obscenity, regardless of his personal feelings!” She turns back to Magnus. “Listen to me, you, you pervert, whatever you have done to my son - we are going to make sure it is undone, and that you will be punished to the fullest extent of the law! This is a violation of the treaty and the Accords and I, I can’t imagine all the things you must have _done_ to him over the past week - ”

“Mother - ” Alec tries again.

“Be quiet!”

“Mrs. Lightwood.” Magnus stands up and sets down his glass of wine. “I have done nothing to your son. Magically, physically, sexually, or otherwise. It is clear to me that you are well aware of that, and merely trying to say that I have in order to protect your reputation from whatever damage you think having a gay son would do to it. I can see, however, that won’t be willing to admit that or let this go. So you can feel free to take this to the Council and plead your case.”

“You had better believe that I will be taking this to the Council,” Maryse tells him. “Alec, we’re leaving. Come with me.”

“I - ” Alec looks back at Magnus.

The warlock remains calm. “I think you had better go, Alec. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to the Council and we’ll get it sorted out.”

“All right,” Alec says. He doesn’t like it, but he knows that Magnus didn’t do anything wrong, and he doubts that the Council will see things any differently. He’s sure that Magnus is one hundred percent correct about his mother’s behavior, that she’s going to claim he’s been enspelled so nobody will think that he’s actually attracted to Magnus. Every thought he’s had in the past week about how he shouldn’t be happy in this relationship has vanished, washed away in a tide of anger over Maryse’s accusations. He looks back at his mother and says, “Let me get my shoes, and then I’ll follow you.”

“Fine.” Maryse waits impatiently before Alec follows her out of the apartment, stealing one last longing glance over his shoulder as he goes. The silence on the way home is oppressive, and Alec wants to say something, but doesn’t know what to say. Once they’re back at the house in Idris, she corners him. “Alec, for the love of God, tell me that you didn’t - oh, why do I bother? Your prospects for a bride are ruined as it is. Even if you didn’t allow him to touch you, nobody will believe that.”

“Hey!” Alec can’t hold his tongue any longer. “Let’s get one thing straight. Even if I am enspelled - which I’m not - and Magnus had had sex with me - which he didn’t! - it shouldn’t affect my so-called prospects. Would you consider a woman less worthy of marriage if someone had done magic on her and raped her? Is that what our society has come to?”

“If it had been with another woman - ”

“Okay, I’m done,” Alec says. “I’m not going to convince you and frankly I don’t care. All I have to say is that in eleven days, I’m marrying Magnus whether you like it or not.” He turns and stomps away without another word.

“We’ll see about that!” Maryse shouts after him, and he slams his bedroom door in response. It’s petty, but it makes him feel better.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

“She said _what_?” Catarina Loss and the rest of the Council stare at Magnus like he’s grown another head.

“That I have done magic on her son to make him want to marry me,” Magnus says.

Catarina’s mouth hangs open for a few moments. “I just, honestly, don’t know what to do with that.”

“Well, we’d best think about it, because my guess is that in an hour, the Clave’s representative is going to be pounding on your door demanding my head on a pike for breaking the Accords. They’re probably going to demand that you put me through one of their ridiculous trials.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen, but – ” Catarina’s phone rings. She looks down at it and rolls her eyes. “And, here they are.” She taps her screen to send the call to voice mail. “I’ll set up a meeting, but honestly, is it going to help? You could swear all day long that you didn’t do anything to Alec, but they’re not going to believe you. We could use a truth spell, but of course we’re the enemy, too, so what reason will they have to believe us?”

“Don’t they have their own way of forcing people to tell the truth?” one of the other Council members asks.

“Yes, but I think it involves the possibility of dying, so I’ll pass,” Magnus replies. “However, there is a possibility – perhaps they’ll believe one of their own? I’ve had a thought or two, but I need to be able to talk to Alec and I can’t get in touch with him. His mother must have taken his phone.”

“He’s a grown man!” Catarina proclaims to the ceiling.

“Fortunately for me, his sister is flying in, and she seems to be on our side,” Magnus says. “If you could just buy me a little time – forty-eight hours should be more than enough.”

“That I think I can do,” Catarina says. “Honestly, they’d probably rather put it off longer. Until after the preferred wedding date. But forty-eight hours is fine by me.”

Everyone agrees on that, and she says she’ll text Magnus the details, so he heads for the airport. Alec had showed him a picture of Izzy, and she stands out in a crowd, so it’s easy to find her even though she’s expecting to see her brother, not him. “Isabelle? I’m Magnus. There’s been a complication, thanks to your mother.”

“Oh, Lord,” Izzy says, looking like she already has a headache. “I’ve just been on a plane for twelve hours. I need a drink before we talk about what my mother has done now. Where’s Alec?”

“Back in Idris,” Magnus says. “Let’s get you that drink, and I’ll explain.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Alec knows that it’s not exactly mature to stay in his room and sulk, but he doesn’t care. He refuses to leave his room and refuses to speak to his mother. Every time she tries, he just says, “Unless you’re buying me a plane ticket to New York to be with my betrothed, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

He’s hoping that Magnus and the Council will be able to get things sorted out. If they can’t, he’ll take matters into his own hands. His current plan is to wait until the day before the wedding, then steal his mother’s credit card to buy himself a plane ticket and their car to get him to the airport. He can call Magnus from a pay phone once he gets back to New York. Of course, his parents probably won’t let up even after the marriage is complete, but he’s not going to let them bully him into leaving Magnus again.

“Alexander! Your sister is here!” Maryse shouts from outside his room. Alec frowns at the door and decides to ignore her. It’s probably just some stupid trick. Then a moment later, the door opens and Izzy pokes her head in.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, blinking at her.

“Well, I’m here because of my brother’s upcoming wedding, of course!” Izzy says, beaming as she embraces him. “I talked the guard at the city wall into letting me in. But imagine my surprise when I got here and found out that the wedding had been called off!”

Maryse is standing in the door, her jaw set in an annoyed expression. “I agreed to let her in to say hello, but she’s leaving now.”

“Mother,” Alec groans.

“It’s fine, Alec,” Izzy says, giving him another hug. He feels her slide something into his back pocket. “I just wanted to come say hi. I’m sure Mom and the Clave will get everything straightened out. Maybe then I’ll come back for a longer visit.”

“Only if you’re going to comport yourself like a proper young lady,” Maryse says, and ushers Izzy out of the room.

Alec walks over and shuts the door hard, just to make a point, before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a phone. There’s already a text from Magnus waiting, which reads, ‘Hello, darling, I miss you.’ Alec smiles a little and texts back, ‘I miss you too.’

 It’s barely a minute before Magnus replies. ‘I’d rather hear the sound of your voice, but I’m guessing a phone call would be a bad idea,’ and Alec confirms. ‘The Council and the Clave are having a meeting tomorrow at noon. I think I’ve found a way to clear things up, but only if you agree.’

Alec frowns at the phone, but texts back, ‘Okay, what is it?’

There’s a long pause before the next text. Alec reads it and takes a deep breath, then lets it out. Finally, he texts back, ‘Okay.’

‘Are you sure?’ Magnus replies, almost immediately.

‘Yeah, I’m sure.’

‘Okay. Izzy and I will take care of it. See you tomorrow, darling.’

Alec texts back, ‘See you tomorrow’ and flops down on his bed, tucking the phone away underneath his pillow.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

Magnus eyes his closet and thinks about whether or not he should wear something dramatic and exciting or whether he should try to look more sedate. He doubts looking sedate will help, but it probably can’t hurt. Still, he doesn’t want to look morbid. So he dons a neat black suit but includes a magenta scarf and pocket square.

The Council has arranged for the meeting to be held on neutral territory, in a library in Berlin, which isn’t too far from Idris. They’ve reserved a private conference room, and Magnus arrives a few minutes early so he’ll be done looking nervous before the Clave gets there. They, of course, arrive late, in a group, for maximum intimidation. Maryse has her hand wrapped tightly around Alec’s elbow, like she’s afraid that he’ll break away from her the first chance he gets. Magnus glances at him, and Alec gives him a slight nod before Maryse pushes him into a chair.

“I want to make one thing perfectly clear,” Catarina says, as soon as the Clave is seated. “This is not a trial. We are holding this meeting as a courtesy only. You have produced no evidence that Magnus has done anything wrong, and I will not allow him to be mistreated.”

“No evidence!” Maryse sounds aghast. “My son saying he wants to marry another man isn’t considered evidence?”

“Since your son was matched with Magnus by the Oracle, no, it isn’t,” Catarina says, her voice civil, but frosty. “Nobody on the Warlock Council finds it difficult to believe that Alec would want to marry the person he was judged to be compatible with.”

“My son would never – ”

“Mom, stop,” Alec says. “Even if I weren’t attracted to men – which I _am_ and always have been – I would have agreed to this if only to honor the treaty. But that isn’t really the point, because, again, I’ve been attracted to men as long as I can remember, and you’ve been well aware of it since I was thirteen. Unless there’s some other reason you kept me in solitary confinement my entire adolescence.”

“Nonsense!” Maryse looks at the Clave. “You see, see the way his mind has been poisoned – ”

Catarina clears her throat and glances at Magnus. “I’ve been told there’s someone here who can confirm Alec’s inclinations, who hasn’t had contact with Magnus and therefore can’t be accused of, shall we say, contamination?”

“We – what?” Maryse looks around as the door opens and Izzy comes through with Jace Wayland behind her. Maryse’s mouth tightens when she sees Izzy, but then her jaw drops when she sees Jace. “What – how did you – ”

Jace is looking at Alec. “Are you sure about this, Alec?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Alec says. “I’m very sure.” He looks at his mother. “Jace lives in Idris, and the gatekeeper can confirm he hasn’t come or gone since before the handfasting, so there’s no way Magnus could have done anything to him. Jace, tell my mother what happened when I was twelve.”

Jace still looks a little dubious, but he nods. He addresses the Clave as a whole more than Maryse, saying, “So, uh, Alec and I have been friends ever since we were six years old. When he was twelve, he told me he liked boys, ‘the way he should like girls’.” He clears his throat nervously. “He asked if he could kiss me, so he could, you know, show himself that it was gross and he didn’t enjoy it.”

“Alexander Gideon Lightwood!” Maryse sounds so appalled that Magnus has to resist the urge to ask her if she needs him to get some smelling salts.

Catarina steals a glance at Alec, and is clearly trying not to betray her own opinions on a twelve year old who was desperate to think his orientation was ‘gross’. “And?”

“And I said sure,” Jace says with a shrug. “I mean, I didn’t think it was a big deal. He wanted to not be attracted to boys, which sounded right to me, so I figured I would help him out. So I let him kiss me and then I asked if it worked, and he said no, and made me promise not to ever tell anyone what had happened. Which I never did, until today.”

“This – you – ” Maryse can’t even speak, she’s so upset.

“Okay, is everything settled, then?” Alec says, ignoring her and looking the Clave. “Can you make her give me my phone back and stop accusing my betrothed of being a rapist?”

Inquisitor Herondale clears her throat. “Well . . .”

“No, there is no ‘well’,” Alec says. “Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t need anyone in this room’s _permission_ to marry Magnus. I’ve lived with him ten days and to be honest I’d marry him with or without an oracle’s recommendation. And as sick as I am of my mother telling me the way I feel is an abomination, that’s not what’s really important to me right now. What she’s said about Magnus is. I demand an apology for what she – and the rest of you – have accused Magnus of. I won’t get one from her, I know that, but I’ll get one from the Clave.”

“I agree,” Catarina says, her eyes narrowed. “The fact that you accused a warlock of violating someone’s mind without evidence was unspeakably offensive both to Magnus himself, as well as to warlocks in general and the Accords that we all follow.”

Herondale clears her throat. “Although we cannot condone this union, we will not stand against it. Mr. Lightwood has made his decision and we will respect that.”

Maryse makes a strangled noise.

“And?” Alec says.

“Our accusation was based on . . . unreliable testimony,” Herondale says, shooting a glance at Maryse. “We were, perhaps, hasty in our judgment. Please accept our apology.”

“Thank you,” Alec says, and stands up, rounding the table to walk over to Magnus. “Hi,” he says, grinning a little foolishly.

“Hello, Alexander,” Magnus says, and kisses him. Alec kisses him back, wrapping his arms around Magnus’ waist and pulling him close. There’s some noise from the Clave - shuffling and fidgeting in clear discomfort – but nobody interrupts. Magnus decides to keep it relatively brief, despite the petty inclination to make them all stew in their own prejudice. He pulls away and says, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Alec says, looking completely unaware of their audience. “So where were we before we got so rudely interrupted?”

“We were going to take your sister out to dinner,” Magnus says. “And then I was going to teach you how to rumba.”

Alec’s smile widens. “That sounds perfect.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

“It’s gonna be an interesting wedding, that’s for sure,” Izzy says, laughing as the waitress departs with their drink order. “The seating chart is gonna be a bitch.”

“Hardly,” Alec says. “Nobody from the Clave will come. They said outright they weren’t condoning it. They’ll send Herondale to be the representative, and you’ll be there, but . . .”

“And me,” Jace says, punching Alec in the shoulder.

Alec smiles at him and says, “Yeah, okay. Thanks. But you still see my point.”

“They normally put the Clave’s attendees on one side and the warlocks on the other,” Magnus says. “I’ll have a word with Catarina about just doing general seating instead. I think that might cut down on some of the awkwardness. Aside from that, do you really care if the Clave boycotts the wedding?”

“Nah. Not really.” Alec frowns a little and adds, “Actually I think I prefer it that way.”

“So it all works out,” Magnus says, and leans over for a kiss. Alec sinks into it, letting it linger for several long minutes. Kissing Magnus is even more amazing than before, now that he doesn’t feel ashamed of doing it. It’s all he wants to do for the rest of his life. He’s even a little annoyed when the waitress comes back with their drinks. Why is he out for dinner? They could be back at Magnus’ loft kissing _right now_.

Izzy giggles when she sees the look on his face. She elbows Jace and says, “We’d better enjoy their company now, because I’m pretty sure that after tonight, we won’t see them until the wedding.”

Alec glowers at her, and Magnus hides a laugh behind one hand. “True, I _do_ intend to monopolize him for quite some time,” he says without shame, twining his fingers through Alec’s and rubbing his thumb over Alec’s knuckles. Alec flushes pink, and Magnus just kisses him again.

“Guys, come on,” Jace says, laughing. “Drinks.”

“Right.” Alec manages to pry himself away from Magnus long enough to pick up his glass. “To us. All of us. We couldn’t have done it without your help.”

“Hear, hear,” Izzy says, raising her glass. They all clink them together and take a drink.

“And to you two,” Jace adds. “Blessed union, and all that.”

Magnus smiles at Alec and says, “Still think that drinking to that is self-serving?”

Alec clinks his glass against Jace’s and says, “I think it’s high time we served ourselves.”

Magnus laughs and lifts his glass into the toast. “I’ll drink to that.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~


End file.
